The wife is playing this right now. Dirty Laundry is unequivocally one of the greatest rock songs of all time. I can hardly believe it has been more than thirty years since I first heard it, driving to school in the dark (it was early morning). The song is practically perfect musically and lyrically. You don’t really want to know what’s going on. All the boys in the newsroom got a running bet. We got the bubble-headed bleached blonde, comes on at five; she can tell you about the plane crash with a gleam in her eye. Thank you, Don Henley.
Last night I watched Edward Scissorhands again. This may be Tim Burton’s magnum opus. Hilarious, poignant, beautifully told. What is it like to be “different”? What is it like to be what everyone calls a “freak”? Lonely, maybe, but also potentially beautiful. The soul can’t be measured nor evaluated by our outsides. Johnny Depp’s greatest work is surely as Captain Jack Sparrow, but he brings beauty and innocence and sorrow to life in the misunderstood Edward. Meanwhile Burton dresses down the homogeneity of a soulless suburbia, where individuality is a matter of paint. We need others: both those that look like us and even those unique people whose view of the world is askew a tiny bit. Burton’s work is surely more than slightly askew, but he gives us a clear lens by which to view ourselves and others. Thanks, Tim.